


Sharp and Dangerous

by FeckedSpectrum



Category: Kamisama Hajimemashita | Kamisama Kiss
Genre: Awkward First Times, Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeckedSpectrum/pseuds/FeckedSpectrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's a temperamental psychic and he's a deposed demon warlord. They aren't soft people by nature, but they can get close enough for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharp and Dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> This took entirely too long to write, and just so happened to be a fanfic about Kayako having sex after she got kinda fucked over by the anime (I'm honestly not bitter but you can't tell).
> 
> In this universe, Chapter 107 did not happen like it played out in the manga. Kayako still says some uncomfortable things about Akura-ou's past behavior with hunting down "beauties" in his past, but it's implied that he didn't assault them. I really wouldn't want to write an explicit Akura-ou centered fanfiction unless I could mess with the universe and make him infinitely less problematic.

 

“I said it once and I'll say it again,” Akura-ou growls, glaring with one eye, the other shut from the blood running down his face. There's so much blood, she doesn't even see much skin left, one of his horns might have actually _snapped_ off, there's blood and it's all _his_. “I'll take on every bastard you've got in Izumo!”

Ookunushi smiles, but it's faint and it's odd and it's not like the ones he shows her. She can see power rippling around him, she can see his resolve tighten and she can see Akura-ou dead, he's going to die. That demon, the only person who has ever seen what she wanted, who might have half-way cared, is going to die.

Neither of them are looking at her, no one remembers she exists, but she's closer to Akura-ou. She pulls his face toward her before she can think, and does the only thing a hardly-divine psychic can do, and the demon is all tension, hard lines and no give before she vaguely remembers that he has the most frightening teeth she's ever seen. She turns to Ookunushi before she can regret it, and he doesn't look remotely fond of her anymore, just shocked. “This demon is my familiar now. Please allow him to serve as long as he does not pose a threat to Izumo.”

Something tickles her chin, and she finds the back of her hand and her mouth covered in blood.

*

At this point, she knows when he's manipulating her, knows he's frustrated and his darkest, most demonic side is tearing at the bonds she put on him. If she wasn't a god, she would be dead, he would kill her, and he wouldn't feel sorry in the _slightest_.

But he wears a human's face (a dead human, a dead son) and cuts his words softly, stands too close to her and leans over her in a way she could almost blame on his height. “Arahitogami-sama, this little demon is making a fool of you. You sent him to Yonder, twice, and he's here again. You can't have a soft-touch with this.”

“You don't even know what that means,” she says, and plans to follow with a command, to make sure he doesn't do what he wants to, kill and destroy and bring Izumo down on them both, because she can handle a little Kappa.

His fingers barely touch her, tracing from the bend of her shoulder to her earlobe, but lightning seems to ring in her veins. He bends closer, she can't tell if his lips touched hers or if it was the touch of his warm breath as he stifles a chuckle and smiles. “I don't?”

She deals with him like a mature goddess would in this situation, grabs a wooden chair and smashes it into the side of his head.

She found the Kappa shortly after, and it was never seen in the Kyoto prefecture again.

*

He's been too quiet. Too obedient. It's rare that they can share the same room and not argue (he's a spoiled demon warlord and she might be slightly temperamental) but she started keeping count. It's been at least a week since he last gave her an unkind word.

She decides to test it. She puts the last of his peach preserves on a slice of toast and eats it in front of him.

He says nothing and eats his toast dry. “Akura-ou, have you been feeling alright?”

“I'm perfectly fine.” He's probably dying. “I said I'm fine, don't look at me like that.” He's definitely dying.

She only gets ready to go to school because she knows he won't tell her now, he's too stubborn to do anything that doesn't seem like his idea in the first place. “You'll tell me if you're not fine, right?”

“Yes,” he answers, transforming into Kirihito to perform some chores in town (buying more preserves). He walks with her to the sidewalk, perhaps a little too close, then places a hand on her shoulder and a small (she almost doesn't realize it, doesn't really believe it) kiss on her cheek. “I'll see you after school,” he adds, and she thinks his voice breaks a little.

*

 

She's shaking and she hates it, hates everything about this, hates how weak she feels. Hates that pack of Oni most of all, the way they strode into her city and dared to goad Akura-ou into a fight, dared to lay a hand on him, dared to rip open his chest and try to take him after he finally said it.

His hand on her shoulder and her hand on his healed chest (not Kirihito's, it's Akura-ou's and it's hers) are her only anchor. “I'm fine, dammit.” He dares to smile, but it's weak, it's kind, because he's always a little scared when she acts so fragile. “You won't get rid of me that easy.”

Of course she won't, she knows it logically but has to prove it to herself. He's sitting on the floor of the shrine and she's kneeling, she almost loses her balance when she kisses him but he catches her hip, holds her. She curls her hand around his nape and opens her lips slightly, she wants more of him, wants his strength and wants him to hold her closer because he can, he's still alive and he has her.

He sucks her lip and she copies him, she has nothing else but to learn what he shows her, and he seems to sense that. Whatever heat she feels in her blood, he feels it more, he always feels it more, and the hand still on her hip pulls her body closer. Her knees would be raw if her kimono wasn't tucked under them, but she doesn't think about that, doesn't think about anything when he pushes closer, his other hand pulling at her obi just a little.

She feels cold, wretched panic.

He seems to sense that, the hands gone as if they never were there and a closed-lip kiss seals the deep one they shared. “I'm too old to be fighting like I did, you should let an old demon sleep.”

*

Nanami was staring at her strangely. “So you and Akura-ou don't...ever...?”

“He doesn't seem that interested in that. Specifically.” There's intimate moments and kisses that melt into something beyond kissing, but clothing isn't moved and chastity isn't taken and that's enough, dammit-

“Oh, that's okay! I just didn't think Akura-ou was that type of guy.”

The worst part is, Kayako doesn't think he is either.

 

*

An arm settles over hers and a kiss behind her ear mutes every bit of anger in her. “Welcome home, Arahitogami. How was your day?”

She almost melts, until she notices that his arm is putting a very strategic weight on her elbow, keeping her from eating the very last peach tart she took home from her surprise dinner-date with the land god. “Don't invite Nanami Momozono anywhere without my express permission, ever again. And move your arm.” It moves, and she glares at him as she eats that last tart.

She knows the only reason he doesn't look pissed is because he's hiding behind Kirihito's face. He's told her as much, that he can wear Kirihito as a mask. That she doesn't really know him. That Nanami knows him better. She doesn't even know the man she fell in love with so hard, he's toying with her, bidding his time with second-best because he wants Nanami so much more-

“Kayako,” his hand brushes over her hair, would run through it if she didn't bind it in a bun, “What's wrong?”

That's when, if it were anyone else, she would smile and say 'Nothing is wrong. I am a goddess, nothing bothers me, I am here to take your troubles, I have none of my own.' But this is her familiar, Akura-ou, the one person that saw through her own mask immediately ('Don't you want to be free?') and the one person that she had to prove loved her. She pressed her lips hard against his, too hard to feel them tremble, and pulled him by the neck closer to her.

And he matched her, matched her desperation in the way he guided her mouth to open, pulled her flush to his body, and pressed her body to a wall. She felt him completely, the cords of his neck, his chest against hers, his warm breath moving to the corner of her jaw.

And utter terror right before he pulled away.

She felt like she was breaking (again), coiled a hand into a fist and hit his chest. “You wouldn't do this if I was Nanami, would you?! If I was anyone else, you wouldn't stop, you would want me! I would be enough for you!” Anyone, any woman beautiful enough to catch his ear wouldn't stop him. If she were beautiful, he would travel across the country, burn down villages, murder anyone in his way, but Kayako isn't beautiful, isn't Nanami, isn't the one he wants.

But he holds her, lets her cry before she realizes she's crying, moving his hand in circles over her back. He whispers her name, so gently, she almost mistakes it for a prayer. “Kayako.” She makes herself breathe, rubs her eyes, curses them for making her even more ugly. “Kayako,” he whispers again, and kisses the freckle below her eye. “There is absolutely no one, no God nor human nor yokai, that I would care so much about. No one but you.”

She's going to start crying again. Anyone else would cry tears of happiness, take the heartfelt words of a lover and be happy, but Kayako doesn't take happiness, doesn't trust it, and has to know. “Why do you always pull away?”

“I have exactly three reasons, and none of them have to do with the fox's wife,” Akura-ou says, holding up a hand to count down. “One, I don't want you to be afraid. I would rather become a monk than see your frightened face.” Kayako does not see a celibate, holy life of nonviolence agreeing with a demon warlord. “Two, I won't do that kind of thing wearing a human man's face, and you're not attracted to my real face.”

“I like you, Akura-ou, not Kirihito,” Kayako argues. She's seen his real face, he rarely wears Kirihito's when he can avoid it, and tends to laze around the shrine with brilliant red hair and razor sharp teeth.

“You never kiss my real face, and you agree to anything I say when I wear Kirihito's. I've tested it.” Now that she thinks about it, he might be right. It's probably due to a healthy fear of his pointed teeth. “And three, I can't trim my nails. I've tried, they're immortal. And unless you have anything you need to tell me, you should go to bed, you have class in the morning.”

She completely forgot about school, there's no way she'll get enough sleep thanks to her Zombie killing spree. “We're going to continue this tomorrow,” she promises with a kiss on the cheek.

*

 

She doesn't understand the third reason until the middle of the night, when it becomes embarrassingly clear to her.

 

*

 

She also spends entirely too much time listening to other girls at school. Mako Makanshuko explained to her friend (and inadvertently Kayako) what she and her boyfriend do to cope with a size issue. Lin Fong and her girlfriend are particularly inventive. Kanako Shidou's boyfriend is just a pervert.

The Onin War is completely lost on her, but she supposes she can read the textbook and ask Akura-ou about it, since he was alive during that time.

*

 

She doesn't get to continue the discussion during shrine consulting hours as her followers needed more advice than usual. Unhappy housewives need to know their husbands still love them, boyfriends need to know if their pregnant girlfriend was faithful before they propose, a school janitor lost his key ring (it was in his pocket).

She gets sugar cookies and a warm pot of tea for her trouble, both made by her familiar (both surprisingly delicious, considering his usual cooking skill). She wants to sink into the relaxation, feel the tension in her shoulders melt to nothing and cuddle into her familiar's side, and allows herself to do so for exactly one minute. “I don't have a list of reasons.”

“That's fine, I heard two people are supposed to have a conversation in this kind of situation.”

She's never heard that. “Who did you hear that from?”

“The book you threw at me about healthy relationships.” He gives a half-hearted glare, because he didn't even bruise and at the time he was driving Kayako and Tomoe insane with his belief that If We're Friends We Murder People Together Otherwise I Don't Think You Like Me. “But what were you going to say?”

“A lot of women are scared. I've also done my research.” She gets a small smile for that. “Nursery school notwithstanding, the only other boy I've kissed is Tomoe.”

“You kissed Tomoe?” He growled, “You actually kissed that damn fox?”

“You kissed Nanami, and I'm not even going to pretend you were celibate when you were on your rampage,” Kayako returns the glare.

“More than you'd think. There were a few times before I met Tomoe, and when he was a kid it didn't seem appropriate. After that it just seemed boring.”

“You actually cared what was appropriate for a kid to see?”

“Nah, I guess I found it boring then. When it's between two or more people who don't have any emotional connection, it's just something very sweaty and time-consuming.”

“ _Two or more?_ ”

“It only happened twice!” he snapped. “I thought the second time would be better with more women but it just got more complicated. I felt like I needed a map or battle plan. Then halfway through I met the first tanuki guy I'd ever seen. And I saw entirely too much.”

Everything her familiar said created more questions than answers, but he seemed intent on not saying any more about his second orgy.

“Then again, a lot of things are boring without you there,” Akura-ou says, putting an arm around Kayako's shoulders.

She tries to lay her head on his chest, but his long red hair tickles her nose. She pulls on one of his locks playfully to get his attention. “Have you ever cut someone with your teeth?”

“Not unless I meant to,” he answers. He smiles, but it's oddly closed-lipped.

She doesn't notice, pulling herself to kneel as she kisses him. Kisses his real face. She's close enough to him already that she has a height advantage, her hair falling on his chest and neck before he gathers it in both hands, fisting when she sucks his lip.

He wears Kirihito's face as a mask, he doesn't reveal as much when he looks human because he doesn't  _feel_ as much. The small sound he makes when she traces under the corner of his jaw with a thumb and the following tension in his body tells her he feels  _everything_ .

The power she has scares her, and she pulls back a little, to catch her breath and look into his eyes and make sure she hasn't done anything wrong, hasn't hurt him.

Her concern is too easy to see, and he actually laughs, even though his skin is flushed and he's trembling just slightly. “God, I better not look like a blushing virgin right now.”

“This God says you do,” Kayako giggles, then yelps as he pulls her to sit in his lap.

He wraps his arms around her arms and curls over her like a child over a plushie. “This blushing virgin wants some damn cuddling then.”

“Fine, fine,” she answers, patting his arm reassuringly. She relaxes, her ear against his chest. Her heartbeat isn't the only one that's racing. Her heart isn't the only one that's fragile.

*

 

She's awakened a monster.

A  _cuddling_ monster.

She found him boiling rice in the middle of the night once, after he had a nightmare (he doesn't have good memories from Yomi no Kumi), and since then he's taken her invitation to sleep beside her  _every night_ . When he falls asleep, he's not bad. Either she has her head on his shoulder or he throws an arm around her middle, but during the night he goes through bouts of curling into himself on the edge of the bed, or wrapping himself completely around her like an octopus. She's even woken up with his hair tucked over her face and under her cheek.

She tries to deal with it. She knows he doesn't deal well with loss, that he's always clung too tight to things (kitsunes) that are precious to him. But she'd also like to remember what a good night's sleep felt like!

After she fell asleep during consulting hours, she banished him to his own room for the night.

She didn't last that long. She laid in bed for two hours, feeling cold and frustrated, before she realized she was waiting for him to sleep beside her.

He was waiting for her to tell him to.

 

*

 

“What river was located near the Ikko-Ikki stronghold in Kaga?”

“The Yodo river,” Kayako answers.

Akura-ou kisses the corner of her jaw, settling his arm over her shoulders. “Correct. My old castle was far better, by the way. The parts closest to the river flooded and ruined one of Tomoe's favorite kimonos.”

“Which you were probably wearing instead of Tomoe.”

“Correct again,” and he kisses her neck so gently and slowly, she has to fight not to squirm. “One more question for your stupid review.”

“Being forced to kiss the woman you love is such a torment, I know.”

“Hm? Who's your woman?”

“Nanami, my hatred of her is just a disguise for my true feelings of love.”

“...You know, I _said_ I was never going to get involved with another orgy, but-”

She swings a pillow at his face, but that just encourages him.

“-I could bring it up at that double-date Nanami is set on-”

She tries to smother him, but he just pulls the pillow out of her hands and tosses it to the side.

“-Tomoe could be there too, so you girls don't get stage fright-”

She gets a hand around his mouth, but he's still grinning. “No orgies.”

He pulls her hand back gently and kisses her palm. “No orgies.”

“And you're going to behave on that double-date.”

He hums his agreement as he twines his fingers between hers, placing another kiss on the inside of her wrist. “I'll be on my best behavior.”

“Which means no antagonizing Tomoe,” Kayako added, goosebumps rising on her skin from the feel of his breath brushing up her arm.

He stops at her elbow and flashes an impish smile. “No promises.”

She'd kill him if she didn't love him. “Just kiss me already.”

He does, and it's another tender, barely-there kiss inside her elbow. His eyes meet hers, and he moves to kiss her lips, his long hair tracing along her arm, setting her blood on fire again. But he stops a breath away, where she's hardly able to perform any higher-functions like understand speech or recall history lessons. “Who were the two disputed heirs that caused the Onin war?"

She's going to kill him. “ _Kiss. Me._ ”

He does. She runs her free hand through his hair as his tongue traces over her lips, then circles around the tip of hers, because she opens easy for him. He releases her other hand and trails his fingers back over the inside of her forearm, again and again, her blood running hotter and hotter until she pulls his head back with a fist in his hair and sucks a mark on the side of his neck. A groan spills out of him, and she loves the sound.

He gets her attention back with a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Do you want to?”

“Yes,” she answers, and seals with a kiss. “Do you?”

“Always,” he kisses her neck, a mirror of where she kissed him. “Want you,” his hand starts to pull at the trim of her kimono. “Need you,” he growls, setting his mouth over the top of her shoulder, where she can cover the mark he makes, careful with his teeth.

She had faced enough demons and trained enough to think herself strong and capable. She even had daydreams of lighting her familiar's desire with a coy smirk, touching him with surety, but now her hands couldn't find the right place, and the heat in her body threatened to be cooled by the cold inhibitions of her mind.

That was when her vision jolted as he tried to pull her up and settle her on his lap, but she heard him curse as his leg bent upwards, sending her forehead against his throat and her nose against his collarbone.

She pressed a hand to her nose and hoped it wouldn't bleed as he turned to the side and coughed into the bend of his arm, hand rubbing his neck. “What was that?!”

“...My toe bent the wrong way, then you headbutted my trachea,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Any casualties on your end?”

“I was expecting a few marks, but not on my nose.” She had received a few hickeys from him previously, but had trained him not to give her any when it was too warm to wear a scarf, with only one off-season mishap that was resolved with a light silk tie.

He pulled her hand away and placed a trail of feather-light kisses from the top of her forehead to the tip of her nose. “Kids get healing kisses, don't they?”

It made her laugh, despite the fading sting. “I'm too old for 'a kiss to make it better.'”

She leaned under his chin and placed her own kisses from his dip of his collarbone to the corner of his jaw. “Tch, I'm definitely too old then.”

“You still act like a brat, that's why you're immortal.”

He laughed, settling his arms over her shoulders in a loose, comfortable embrace. Kayako remembered the first time she heard that kind of laugh from him, after Tomoe had said something that was only vaguely threatening towards Akura-ou during one of Nanami's early visits. It was an honest laugh, earned by very few people in the demon's life. It came from a place of love greater than his love for violence and bloodshed. It came from the heart.

She pressed her lips to his again, if just to make his eyes close so that he wouldn't watch her do this. She pushed her kimono open quickly, for a moment able to pretend that she was changing in her room alone. He was a little too wise for that, catching her hand before he pulled back and looked at her, searing her with his gaze. His eyes didn't fall downward, refused to, as if he was asking her for permission first.

She gave it, guiding the back of his hand to her collarbone where his knuckles grazed across the hollow of her flesh. His fingers flared out like a butterfly stirring, hot lines of contact on her neck. He touched her like she was a flower, easily bruised, but she could see something darker behind his eyes, something he trembled trying to contain.

He kissed her, quick and hard, before he watched his hand turn at the wrist, the pads of his fingertips sliding over the curve of her breast. As embarrassing and frightening as being naked in front of her lover seemed before this, she felt like she was baring herself more than just physically. It wasn't enough for him to touch her, but he watched her as well, watched her skin prickle and the skin around her nipples tighten impossibly around the promising idea that he would touch them as well, soon. His thumb grazed one with intent, with the same light touches he had given her already, before his hand curled around her, lifting and squeezing with a dull thrum that accentuated the lightning strike of pleasure preceding it.

His hands were soon filled with her, stroking and kneading, catching her peaked nipples between two knuckles as he pulled and rubbed them. The hot breath of his mouth held hotter promises, traveling the curves of her chest to pull away as soon as it came close to where she wanted it. A frustrated whine escaped her when she felt his lips pull into a smirk at the underside of her breast, and she curled a hand around the back of his head to put him where he needed to be.

It was good, it was so impossibly good. She gasped and arched as he sucked and licked, still pulling the other nipple in the same rhythm. Her thighs tensed and squeezed, trying to find relief for the heat building inside of her, frustrating her further. She needed him to do something, touch her, help her.

They had pushed and pulled in parts until she was lying on her back, the demon nipping around breast playfully. She wanted him to move further, move to where she needed him, but he refused to be helpful with this, stubbornly frustrating her like he did in everything else.

He settled on his elbows and flared his fingers over her hips, his long fingernails becoming bright lines of contact. “I told you I needed some help with this part,” he growled, voice impossibly low for its playful tone.

She blushed madly as she remembered, as if their acts hadn't embarrassed her enough already. His nails. She was half-inclined to risk injury and ask him to try anyway, before he took her hand and kissed her fingertips.

“Only a little help. I'm not just going to watch,” he said, tongue flicking between her knuckles.

She had half a mind to pinch her fingers together, catch his tongue and pull, but the other half was too fogged over with a desperate plea to touch where she needed it most. She ran her fingers over her underwear, trailing down the soft line of her sex, a soft exhale as she felt the silky skin there flush with heat and appreciation.

He was still watching with his sharp red eyes, even as he tucked his fingers under the elastic at her hips, pulling as soon as she guided her hand underneath as well, shielding her most intimate body parts from his gaze. Should she have shaved? Did she look odd? Were her lips too wide or otherwise drastically different from other women he had been with?

His fingers trailed down her legs and up again, cupping under her knees. She parted her fingers to catch her clitoris and lips between two, then saw him fall forward, followed by a devastating, electric pleasure wracking through her body. She heard a squeaky gasp fall from her lips, thighs tensing inward to hide herself or force him to stay, she hadn't decided which, but his hands held them apart as he hummed rather than sucked, then licked from the base of her lips to her clit.

“Good?”

“Good,” Kayako panted, pulling herself apart with her fingers as he hummed appreciatively.

“Sweet too,” he growled, nipping where her groin joined her thigh. If she was driven any less mad by his attentions, she would probably die mortified.

Still, she trailed downward as he turned his tongue to her clit, and she pressed shallowly against her opening where it was the most sensitive. She had never been so wet, so greedy, heat racing through her body as she alternated with two fingers and he traced a character with his tongue. _Sweet._

She winced with the third. _Beautiful._

She curled her fingers as best she could with the position, unable to find the spot that was supposed to turn her to a screaming mess, but found something good enough to stir her up more. _Love._

She pulled her hand away, grabbing his hair with the other, and stared at him. His blown pupils, his parted lips, his intense focus. He didn't see anything but her.

He loved her.

She sat up and pulled him to follow, to meet her lips as she tasted herself on his. She was sweet, and she tried to suck the flavor from his lips. “Now,” she gasped as he circled a nipple with his thumb. “I want you now.”

He groaned again, hands flying from her knees to her hips as he lifted her into his lap, this time without injury. She cupped his face and kissed a line across his cheeks as his hands flew and stuttered around the drawstrings of his pajama pants. As soon as he paused, she looked down to show him how embarrassing a lover's gaze was when it was so focused, and _oh that was bigger than three fingers._

He didn't still as she did, but slowed down, catching her lips. He held her hips, moving her slowly above him, only pressing himself to her sex, inviting her to press down. Pressed, kissed, kissed and pressed again until she was melting again. Her blood was boiling again, making her wanton and reckless. She ground down against him, feeling him enter her by inches. His fingers curled, claws almost digging into her flesh before he remembered himself. Neither of them breathed until she reached the base, gasping with that long held breath.

She felt her sex tighten around him, feeling him deeper as she held her breath tight and low in her waist. He growled again, moving one hand to the bed as he couldn't trust his claws to her skin anymore.

She rocked, hardly giving up an inch of his cock, and yet aching with that loss. He played the part of a maiden, slowing her at the hip for more time to adjust. “It's been a long while,” he huffed, pulling the angle of her hips back just a little and – _oh_. There it was.

Another squeaky gasp sprung from her lips, hands tightening on his shoulders. That was what all the fuss was about. Pleasure just bordering on pain, something that would have caused her hips to stutter and hands to draw back in shock if she was alone, but she wasn't. Akura-ou was there to catch her.

He teased her, allowing her only to grind half as fast as she wanted. If his mouth wasn't busy on her skin it was panting sweet gasps and broken words into her ear. “I love the way you squeeze down when I do this,” he groaned, rolling a nipple under his thumb. “Just perfect. My perfect, sweet little goddess. You're mine, aren't you?”

“You're mine,” she answered, pressing a kiss to his lips and squeezing around him once more. “I'm yours and you're mine. We fit perfectly like this.”

“Just like this, perfect,” he cooed, rocking his hips a little faster to meet her. Her pleasure was building, drawing nearly to the edge before it rocked back like waves on the beach. It grew and swept away faster, making her more desperate to catch it. She ground down on him hard, making their pace grow faster. She was nearing the edge of the cliff, with a few more strokes she would crash into an orgasm more intense than she had ever known.

Heat flushed through her body, not entirely her own arousal. Akura-ou made a broken sound against the bend of her neck, stuttering his hips, but refused to stop. He pulled her tight, still rocking against her to pull her right over the edge into white, body-numbing pleasure.

He rested his forehead on her shoulder, still panting, still inside her. “ _Fuck,_ ” he groaned.

 She hummed a response. She felt like the effort to try finding a better, more dignified summary of what they did was completely impossible to find. Her mind was too busy with the tiny sparks of pleasure alighting her back where his fingers traced lazy circles.

 This was exactly where she needed to be.


End file.
